


Jealous For No Good Reason

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk Molly, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, It's For a Case, Jealous molly, POV Molly, POV Molly Hooper, Party, Poor Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a little while now Molly has pretended to date Sherlock while he’s pretended to move around in more exalted circles of society for a case. The night of a gala, though, he ditches her for the client, and Molly’s absolutely jealous. It turns out, however, that Sherlock had ulterior motives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous For No Good Reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likingthistoomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likingthistoomuch/gifts).



> And here is another entry for Day 3 of Sherlolly Appreciation Week! This comes from a prompt from Tumblr, from **likingthistoomuch** , who suggested " _Sherlock flirting with a client in front of Molly._ " It's the tail end of an undercover case, so I'm sorry I don't go into it as much, but I hope it came across!

The sight in front of her was quite like waving a red flag in front of a bull while having him trapped in a china shop. Oh, if his intention had been to rile her up than he had _certainly_ succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. Canoodling with the client when he was supposed to be there on a case. Why had he bothered to bring _her_ , then? As arm candy? Not that she even felt like rather attractive arm candy next to the client, the blonde haired, blue-eyed, Veronica van Woosten.

Bloody hell, she should have just stayed home rather than agree to come to this soiree and help Sherlock. Anything would have been better than watching him fawn over Miss Perfect. She saw a waiter coming and helped herself to another glass of champagne before turning her gaze away. Tearing her gaze away was more like it. God, it made her absolutely miserable to watch Sherlock cozy up to her. Made her feel inferior and plain and she just wanted to gouge her eyes out. Or worse, curl up on the sofa with a pint or three of Ben & Jerry's ice cream and a few million episodes of Doctor Who with her kitten pyjamas and curse the name of Sherlock Holmes for the next few millennia.

She looked down at the gorgeous gown she was in and sighed. It was so lovely, looking almost like she was wearing thousands of tiny stars. It was silver at the strapless bodice, and then once it got to the waist and spilled down the skirt it slowly transitioned to a deep navy blue that ballooned out slightly. She didn’t know what strings had been pulled to procure her the lovely Reem Acra gown or the lovely strappy silver heels that she had been given, nor the diamond pendant around her neck, but she had felt lovely when she arrived, almost like Cinderella at the ball. And now she felt like midnight had arrived and her dress was in tatters and her coach had turned back into a pumpkin and her coachmen were mice again.

Worst of all, though, it was only half past nine and she couldn’t leave until Sherlock tore himself away from their host’s side and collected her. And she had no clue how long that would be, how long she would have to catch glimpses, or worse, of him fawning over the blonde goddess throughout the evening.

She looked at the glass of champagne and then scowled at it before shaking her head. No, bubbly wouldn’t do. She needed something with a bit more bite. Time to head to the open bar. Time to drown her sorrows named Sherlock in a nice Cosmo or something.

**\---**

“You know, you’re really quite lovely,” she said with a dopey grin, a slight slur to her voice. She had a high tolerance to her liquor intake, thanks to her university days and Meena’s influence, but she was pushing her upper limit tonight. For some reason, Sherlock had managed to spend quite a bit of time being in her peripheral view until he’d just suddenly disappeared. Probably off to Little Miss Perfect’s penthouse shag pad, she surmised. And then she’d stopped bothering with being a responsible drinker and just started concentrating on trying to get shitfaced.

The bartender gave her a nod and a small grin before wiping down the bar in front of her and nodding to her left. “Think the party’s about to get a lot more interesting. I hope I still get paid.”

“Oh?” Molly asked, turning to look. She saw Sherlock leading his client, Miss Blonde And Beautiful, by the arm towards Lestrade and Sally. She appeared to be glaring daggers at him.

She also appeared not to be wearing the white evening gown she’d been wearing earlier that evening, instead wearing Sherlock’s tuxedo jacket over her bra and knickers. That immediately soured her mood, as amusing as the sight had been before. She turned back to the bartender and reached over to pat his arm. “Well, how much were you supposed to get paid tonight?”

“Two hundred quid, plus tips,” he said.

She thought for a moment. “I don’t have that much on me, but you listened to me blather about idiot boy all night. Swing by the morgue tomorrow and I’ll make sure you get two hundred quid.”

He gave her a grateful look. “Thanks, Dr. Hooper.”

She gave him a fond smile. “Well, as you’re one of my favorite interns I’d hate to leave you in a lurch,” she said. She picked up her glass and finished her drink. “And you should have cut me off _long_ ago.”

“Yeah, well, you can obviously hold your liquor,” he said with a chuckle. “And when I saw you walk in with Holmes I figured it was a case, and then I saw the look on your face and…”

“And you just figured it was Sherlock being Sherlock,” she finished.

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s got the reputation of a prat still, even if he’s better. I should have guessed he was hanging all over her for a reason. I mean, he just doesn’t do that, you know?”

She got quiet as what he said struck her. She should have seen it, should have realized Sherlock had his reasons. Should have not gotten jealous. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Well, he’s coming this way,” the man said. “You know, I have some coffee, just in case someone wanted some Irish whiskey, and for us staff. I can get you some, if you want, in case you and Holmes have to be here a while.”

“Oh, would you be a dear?” she asked gratefully.

“For you, Dr. Hooper, of course,” he said with a grin, leaving just as Sherlock came over. He glanced over at Sherlock. “You want a coffee too, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock nodded. “Two sugars.” The man nodded and left then. Sherlock sat on the stool next to Molly but said nothing to her for a long moment, almost long enough for Molly to start to get nervous. Finally he spoke. “I’m sorry for how this evening played out.”

“Well, you were undercover pretending to be a playboy,” she said. “It made sense for you to come to the party with one woman and then ditch her for a…prettier one.”

“A stereotypically prettier one,” Sherlock said quietly. “Not a woman I particularly found prettier.”

“Oh,” Molly said, not quite sure how to take that.

Sherlock looked a bit unsure of himself. “Nothing happened in her bedroom,” he said. “She attempted to seduce me, and I instead turned the conversation towards getting the information I needed for her to incriminate herself and prove she was behind implicating her personal assistant.”

Molly frowned. “But I thought she was your client,” she said, sounding confused.

“I merely allowed her to think she was. Her personal assistant is a friend of John’s. She procured my services first. I made my services enticing to Ms. van Woosten in an attempt to have her hire me, to have her want me to go undercover in her circle of friends and to get the invitation to this event, and to get the information I needed to prove she committed the murder and framed her PA.”

Molly shook her head and shut her eyes. “I’m a bit too inebriated to understand all this right now,” she said. “Explain it to me in the morning?”

“All right,” Sherlock said. “For now, have some of the coffee that Robert will bring and when he’s done we can leave.” He paused. “It’s rather a shame the dress and the trappings need to go back to my brother. You looked exquisite tonight. I would have liked to have at least one dance.”

She slowly opened her eyes. “You wanted to dance with me?” she asked slowly.

“The ruse to entrap Ms. van Woosten would not have been complete if she had not wooed me away from you, as you have been pretending to be my paramour throughout the duration of this case, but yes, I would have enjoyed at least one dance. I had not expected her to pounce and sink her claws in quite so quickly.” He tilted his head. “Perhaps I can convince my brother to secure us an invitation to a diplomatic event, if it won’t bore you to tears. He gets them all the time and usually ignores them unless it’s something he is forced to go to by Her Majesty or her chief of staff. If it’s a small function, I can convince him to bring the dress out of storage. Though I doubt the necklace will make reappearance. That’s on loan from the Duchess of Cambridge.”

Molly’s eyes widened as she brought a hand to the necklace. “What?”

“Well, the murder _was_ related to the royal family,” Sherlock said. “They had a vested interest in making sure the true killer was caught. The dress was picked out by her as well.”

Molly glanced down at the dress. “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t spill anything on it…”

Sherlock gave her a small smile . “Well, now that it’s all over, perhaps I can take you somewhere that’s open late to get you some food to sop up the copious amount of alcohol in your system.”

“In this dress?” she asked, lifting her head to stare up at him with wide eyes.

He shrugged. “Probably not the most traditional date, but I suppose I owe you for spoiling your evening.”

A slow smile crossed her face, and she reached over to place a hand on his arm which was resting on the bar. “How about we head back to my flat, find a place with twenty-four hour takeaway, and I change into comfy pyjamas and we just curl up and watch a film on the telly? I’d rather do that than risk ruining an expensive designer dress.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded at that. “All right. I suppose we can do that.”

“Good,” she said as Richard came back with two mugs of coffee for them. She reached over and took the mug he set down in front of her, blowing on it first and taking a sip. The case was over, and she didn’t have to _pretend_ to be Sherlock’s girlfriend anymore. Somehow, she had the feeling soon enough she’d be the real thing. Maybe he wouldn’t be a society playboy, and there wouldn’t be many extravagant events to attend and she wouldn’t be in outfits like this very often, but that was all right with her. She would handle that just fine.


End file.
